


Profiling an Immortal

by auberus, Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: What Worlds We Weave [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Highlander
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auberus/pseuds/auberus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's Penelope Garcia, computer genius, first, and Immortal a very distant second. She really doesn't like it when the two intersect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Profiling an Immortal

"Garcia."

It would have to be Gideon who found her, when she most wanted not to be found. Though it could be worse, she could have to deal with Hotchner.

"Tell me why you beheaded the nice man."

"Because he's not nice, and I can't work with my head cut off." Garcia finished wiping blood from the blade of her sword, silently promising it a proper cleaning when she got back to her hotel room. She really hoped she wouldn't have to give up her current job and persona - she had perks she wasn't ready to let go of. Like flirting shamelessly with her Watcher.

Raising an eyebrow, Gideon gave her a pointed look, almost knowing. She really should have chosen a job which didn't involve too much contact with profilers.

"Why would he want to behead you?"

Garcia met his gaze for a long moment before she returned her sword to the carefully lined pocket in her coat it stayed in. "Godfrey was actively playing the Game. Has been for as long as I've known of him." Most of her six hundred years, after the first meeting in the company of her teacher while in Paris.

At the patient expression on Gideon's face, clearly waiting for a more complete explanation, Garcia bit back a curse in her native Catalan.

"I'll tell you the rest later. Right now, let's get out of here before someone else comes investigating the light show." She'd avoid telling him as long as possible, though. Explaining what she was to mortals was near the top of her least favorite things to do list. Right below fighting other Immortals.

She hesitated a moment, shaking her head when Gideon continued to stand there, before walking away. Headed for the stairs down to the ground level of the parking structure; the elevator had probably been shorted out by Godfrey's Quickening. Gideon could follow or not, but she had no intention of being caught with the body.

"You have blood spatter on you." Gideon caught up with her easily, pacing her down the stairs.

"Not all the blood is spatter." A fact that always made her queasy afterward, once the adrenaline and the high of a Quickening had worn off. Sometimes sooner, when she was reminded of the fact before she got rid of the blood. "I need a shower," she muttered, more to herself than to Gideon.

The clothes would have to be burned later, she had no intention of allowing blood evidence to be found on them if someone looked. Going through a trial, and risking a prison sentence isn't something any Immortal wanted to risk, and she really didn't like the idea of dying to get out of that.

Derek took the stairs two at a time, breath coming faster than normal out of fear rather than because of physical exertion. He'd been on edge ever since he'd spotted Godfrey of Monmouth at the police department a day earlier. When he'd gotten back to the hotel to find Garcia missing and Godfrey's Watcher standing around looking disgruntled, he'd feared the worst. It was a feeling that had only intensified when he'd seen the tell-tale flashes of lightning on the top floor of the parking garage across the street from their hotel. Even as he raced up the stairs to the scene, he was terrified of what he might find.

Rounding the corner at the second floor, he ran headlong into two people coming down the stairs. It took him half a second to recognize Garcia and Gideon, and when he did, the relief was so strong that his knees almost collapsed. He was torn between wanting to hug Garcia, and wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled, but recalled Gideon's presence in the nick of time. He settled for grabbing her by the shoulders.

"What the hell, Garcia?"

"I'm covered in blood, I'm about to be sick from nerves and a bastard's quickening, and you're asking me what's going on?" Garcia rolled her eyes, too tired to care about keeping up the mask of Penelope at the moment. Right now, she'd even slip back into Catalan if she didn't know neither man would understand a word she said. "I need a shower. I haven't felt this dirty in over a century. And as much as I adore you, Derek, you're between me and hot running water."

Derek flicked a glance at Gideon, but the older man's face gave nothing away. Stepping aside so that he could flank Garcia rather than block her way, he asked quietly, "How much did he see?"

"Me, a bloody sword, and Godfrey's decapitated body." Garcia continued down the stairs, wrapping her coat a little closer around her to help conceal the blood stains for now. She'd probably have to replace it as well, with blood all over the inside; that was more of a pain than she liked. Part of why she hated fighting other Immortals. That, and the skirts she liked so much made it a little difficult. "Oh, and blood all over my blouse and skirt - which is ripped, by the way, have I mentioned how much I hate fighting other Immortals?"

"Once or twice." Derek shook his head. "Have I mentioned how much I hate it when you fight other Immortals?" Gideon's face was still unreadable. Since it beat his calling the local cops -- or, God forbid, Hotchner -- Derek was content to let it go, at least for the moment. "Jesus, Garcia. I thought he was going to kill you!"

Garcia glanced at Gideon, concerned about his silence, though she thought it was likely more because he was gathering plenty of information from her conversation with Derek than anything else. At least he hadn't gotten out his cell phone yet, and called someone.

"That makes two of us, nene." She shrugged, her gaze constantly flickering over her surroundings. The Quickening made her feel almost jittery, and she scrubbed at her arms a moment before picking up her pace a bit. The sooner she got that shower, the sooner she got the blood off her, and rid of at least one irritant. "And if I have to fight another Immortal any time in the next millennia, I'm going to have serious words with whoever thought this whole thing was a good idea."

"I'll be happy to help," Derek promised. "Come on - this way. We'll go in through the back. There's less of a chance that we'll run into anyone we know; you look like you've been playing in a slaughterhouse. Godfrey's Watcher can damn well deal with the clean up." Recording, watching, and never interfering had fallen by the wayside almost as soon as he'd met Garcia. Fortunately, she did her best to avoid Challenges; otherwise, he didn't think his nerves would stand it.

"You're my Watcher, Derek, not my keeper." Garcia changed direction enough to head for the alley that led around to the back of the hotel. "You just keep an eye out for idiots like Godfrey, and give me a heads-up if you know they're around. So I can be at home. Or at church."

She hadn't hidden on holy ground since the few years as a nun soon after Ramirez had declared he'd taught her all he could. It always became more appealing after a Challenge, even if she had managed not to give in to that desire. There was too much to life to seclude herself, even to avoid headhunters.

Derek winced. "I should have spotted him right away, Garcia. I'm sorry." He pushed open the back door of the hotel, and after a quick glance up and down to ensure that the coast was clear, motioned her to come on. He preceded her to her room, and was almost as grateful to avoid the rest of the team as he had been to see Garcia alive

Gideon had veered off toward the front of the hotel while Derek and Garcia went around the back, though he still wanted to know more about what Garcia was talking about, and why Derek appeared to know about it. That it appeared she had a choice of kill or be killed didn't much change his duty to report it... though he had no intention of doing so, not yet.

"And you didn't notice my reaction the first time I was around the police station?" Garcia shook her head, ignoring the elevators in favor of the stairs again, preferring to keep moving rather than waiting, and risking being seen. "Why did Gideon call him a nice man? I mean, I know I didn't actually meet him at the station, but you must have. The whole team, and how does a bastard like Godfrey fool a bunch of profilers into thinking he's nice?"

"Lots of practice." Derek was seriously uncomfortable with having Gideon out of his sight, but a show of force would go over very badly right now. "He came across as a righteous cop. I didn't spot him either; his Watcher had to ID him for me." He would be kicking himself over that for a long, long time - but not as long as he would have been if Garcia had died in that parking garage.

"Perfect." Garcia let Derek open the door on the level where the team had their rooms, and check if any of them were out in the hallway, at least. She didn't want to have to explain to them about Immortals, any more than she wanted to explain to Gideon. "So now the local police are going to be really pissed off about the death of one of their own, anyway, and they're going to think someone killed one of the heroes."

"We're clear," Derek assured her. "As long as Gideon didn't go running off to get Hotch. And yeah, you've just about summed it up, unless we get really lucky and Godfrey's Watcher cleans up the mess. You need to catch the flu or something, and stay off everyone's radar."

"Hello, Immortal here. I don't get sick." Garcia gratefully opened her hotel room, letting Derek follow her inside as she made a beeline for the bathroom. "And I don't have a lot of experience pretending to be sick, either. Unless you know of a Watcher you can blackmail who's a doctor, local, and can write me a note."

"No - but I used to fake being sick when I was a kid. I could probably help you wing it." Derek threw himself into one of the chairs in lieu of kicking the furniture out of sheer frustration with the whole thing. "I'm going to go find Gideon. I really don't want him talking to Hotch about this."

"If he hasn't talked to Hotch already." In which case, playing sick wasn't going to stop the questions, just make them come to her. Garcia grimaced, stepping out of the bathroom long enough to hang her coat - and the sword in it, more importantly - in the closet. No need to expose it to humidity more than she had to. "I don't want to have to explain to Hotch what an Immortal is, or why Godfrey's dead, and I'm not."

"Believe me, I don't want to either." Derek shuddered. "He'd go easier on you than he would me. You were defending yourself. I'm covering up a homicide." He stood up. "You take your shower. I'm going to see if I can't find Gideon and drag him back here. Figuratively, anyway."

"Good luck with that." Shutting the bathroom door behind her, Garcia leaned against it a moment. Dealing with the explaining... it was tempting just to call Matthew, and ask him to deal with Gideon, and if Hotch found out, him too. She let out a snort before pushing away from the door to start the shower, murmuring to herself, "The best thing about this century is the hot running water on demand."

~ ~~ ~

Gideon had gone back to his own hotel room, avoiding the suite that the team had booked to use as a place to talk when they weren't at the station. He wasn't quite ready to mention what he'd seen to Hotch, though he knew the other agent - the entire team, probably - needed to know they might have issues with the locals and Garcia. If there was enough evidence left at the scene for them to tie her to the death of one of their own after whoever Derek had mentioned was done trying to clean it up.

Derek checked the bar first, but Gideon was nowhere to be seen. Hotch was, and from the man's casual nod, it was clear that Gideon hadn't told him anything. Yet. He took the stairs back up to their floor, too jittery to deal with the elevator at the moment, and tapped on Gideon's door.

He'd barely had time to settle into a chair when there was a knock on his door, probably Derek, since Gideon knew the rest of the team wouldn't have a reason to bother him at the moment. "Just a moment."

Exactly what Derek was here for, he wasn't entirely certain, though he expected the younger man was looking to protect Garcia, even if he knew that Gideon couldn't _not_ say anything. Though the fact he hadn't reported it immediately wasn't going to look good to anyone, and could involve some awkward questions.

Opening the door, he didn't let anything show in his expression, watching Derek instead for a long moment before he let him in.

"Thanks for letting me in," Derek said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He'd done the whole filling-people-in-thing before, but it was never easy - and it would be even harder explaining it to a person he knew and respected. "You and I need to talk."

"About Garcia and why she beheaded Sergeant Tyler?" Gideon gestured to the chairs on the far side of the room, settling into one of them himself. "Or about what looked like a lightning storm in a parking garage?"

"Both." Derek took the proffered seat. "They're directly related." He sighed. "Garcia - and the late Sergeant Tyler - aren't normal humans like you and me. You heard Garcia talking about centuries earlier; she wasn't in shock, and she wasn't raving, either. She's Immortal, and she's not the only one. Sergeant Tyler was Immortal, too, and she cut his head off because if she hadn't, he'd have taken hers. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. Garcia's been around since the fifteenth century. Sergeant Tyler's real name was Godfrey of Monmouth, and he was at least a hundred and fifty years older than she is."

"And that lightning storm? What was that?" Gideon wasn't sure if he could believe what Derek was saying, though he knew the younger man wasn't lying; he honestly believed that what he was telling Gideon was the truth. Nor had it appeared Garcia was lying about anything she'd told him.

"It's called a Quickening. It's the force that keeps Immortals from aging, and lets them heal so quickly. It's also the reason that Tyler tried to kill Garcia tonight. When an Immortal dies permanently, the Quickening transfers their power to the winner." At least Gideon was asking questions rather than calling the nearest mental hospital. "It's all a part of what they call the Game - one on one sword fights. Supposedly, these fights are going to eventually winnow the ranks of Immortals until there's only one left, and whoever that is wins the Prize. We don't know what it is, and neither do the Immortals. Some, like Garcia, try to avoid the Game as much as they can. Others - like Tyler - go actively looking for Quickenings. I know it sounds... incredible. I didn't believe it either, at first."

"What was her name?" Gideon tilted his head back a little, watching Derek. "The one she was given when she was born, not the ones she's chosen since."

The whole thing sounded impossible, but the lack of any sign of deceit from either of the two involved - particularly Derek - make him inclined to believe it. If simply because the job had taught him that nothing was truly impossible, just highly improbably, or distorted by the perceptions of others.

"Eulalia Merce Vilaro." Derek let out a barely audible sigh of relief. "You understand now why you can't tell anyone, right? You'd put her - and everyone else like her - in serious danger. There are a lot of good Immortals out there, who want nothing more than to live their lives and be left alone. Garcia's not the only one. She's not even the only one in law enforcement."

"Oh?" Gideon raised an eyebrow, giving Derek the opportunity to expand on that. "Who else? Other than the late Sergeant Tyler."

Derek shifted in his seat. "There's a homicide detective in Seattle, a patrolman in Indianapolis, and a couple of guys in Interpol as well. And - well, you know Special Agent McCormick, don't you?" Naming names was risky, but Derek knew that McCormick, at least, wouldn't kill him over it - if only because Garcia would make his life a living hell if he did.

"Yes, I know Special Agent McCormick. He's a good profiler." He'd worked with him before, and he would normally put him around the same age as Hotchner. Perhaps a bit older. Though if he were Immortal, that could easily be a mistake, and there was no way for him to know how old he was just by looking. Not when he wouldn't have thought Garcia to be all that much older than thirty. "He's Immortal?"

Derek nodded. "He's spent almost eight centuries working in law enforcement. This isn't even his first stint with the FBI; he worked with Elliot Ness during Prohibition. He's pretty much the definition of a good guy - he only fights when he has to, and he spends the rest of the time making sure that predators end up either dead or in jail."

"So he avoids this Game as much as Garcia does?" Gideon wanted to ask the questions of Garcia, or even McCormick, to watch their reactions, but for now, he'd deal with who he had to ask. Once he'd gathered the information he could, he'd decide what to do. Certainly he wouldn't tell the local police, unless they showed evidence that Garcia was Tyler's murderer. If they ever found out.

"Not exactly." Derek shrugged. "Garcia avoids challenges like the plague. She'll run to Holy Ground, or just avoid the situation entirely. McCormick doesn't go looking for fights, but he doesn't run from them, either. I don't think he's ever looked for sanctuary. They come from very different times. McCormick was a nobleman and a knight before he became Immortal, and he seems to think that anyone who's stupid enough to challenge him gets exactly what they deserve. Garcia, on the other hand, doesn't fight unless she's got no choice."

"You think Tyler targeted Garcia?" Her origins - fifteenth century, and likely from Spain - made her reluctance to fight almost expected, though he would prefer more information to make that call. "Or simply was waiting for any Immortal who crossed his path?"

"More likely the latter. Tyler was an opportunist. If we'd come down here with McCormick, he'd have challenged him, too - or anyone else who happened to get in his way." Derek leaned back in his chair. "Some of them get like that, after a while. They can't find a purpose in living like a mortal, so they chase after what they know as fiercely as they can. Tyler was a relatively decent guy, as far as mortals were concerned. All you have to do to see that is to look at the way his colleagues viewed him - hell, at the way we saw him, before he challenged Garcia. There are some Immortals who turn into real sickos, but Tyler wasn't one of them. He just challenged the wrong person."

"A woman who had the skills and drive to defeat him with weapons that by their nature skewed the odds in his favor." Gideon had seen both swords, and he was certain that Tyler had both reach, as well as strength, on Garcia. All she'd had was luck and skill. "An obsession that led to his downfall." As it so often did with mortal criminals, as well.

"That basically sums it up." Derek took a deep breath. "He was good. Really good. When I figured out who he was, I was afraid that Garcia was a goner." His smile was more than a little rueful. "She always tells me that I'm underestimating her; I'd just never had it proven to me so vividly before."

Gideon chuckled, a genuinely amused smile on his face. "Garcia's good at making others underestimate her." That was one thing he was certain of.

His smile faded after a momentary pause, his next words far more serious. "How good is your fellow Watcher at cleaning up a crime scene quickly? Good enough to keep the local police from finding out one of their own was killed across the street from the hotel we're staying in?"

"Unless he slept through the Academy, we won't have a problem," Derek assured him. "And since he was assigned to Tyler, it's basically guaranteed that he knows what he's doing. They don't put amateurs on Immortals as active as Tyler was. We shouldn't have anything to worry about."

That made the only concern deciding what to tell Hotch, and when. Or even if he would tell Hotch what he'd learned. About the roles of both Garcia and Derek in this... world of Immortals and Watchers. "Why did you get assigned as Garcia's Watcher?"

"I stumbled across a duel between two Immortals while I was still with the Chicago PD." Repressing a smile was difficult, and Derek didn't quite manage it. "The winner's Watcher kept me from arresting him, and after it was all over, I ended up as a new recruit. When I transferred to the Bureau, they offered me the chance to Watch Garcia, so I took them up on it. My other option was McCormick, and that's a chance I didn't really feel like taking."

"Why not?" Gideon wondered if the Watchers would try to insist on recruiting him, since he'd witnessed the aftermath of the fight between Garcia and Tyler, at least. He hoped not, as he much rather would keep doing the job he was doing.

"Most Immortals don't know we exist. McCormick probably does, but no one knows for sure. I don't think he'd kill a mortal, even a Watcher, for no reason - but it still wasn't a chance I wanted to take. Garcia, on the other hand - I liked her, even before I met her, and she's known about us for at least a century." Strictly speaking, he should have been prepping Gideon for a trip to the Watcher Academy - it was standard practice for any mortal the Watchers knew had learned the truth. At the same time, he couldn't help hoping that the man would be content with the answers he was given, and would refrain from pressing too far.

"And the Watchers aren't worried about her knowing." Gideon leaned back in his chair, still watching Derek with a steady gaze. Even when Garcia was at her most irritated, he'd never gotten the impression she'd actively want to kill anyone, and he suspected the Watchers had noticed that trait as well. "What made you like Garcia before you met her?"

"She's *Garcia*," Derek answered. "The rest of them - even the good guys, like McCormick, are a little bit less - or maybe more - than human. Garcia's not like that. The only thing that makes her Immortal is the lifespan and the sword, and she does everything she can to avoid using the latter." He shrugged. "I'm not sure I can explain it. She is who she is, and she's not about to let anything, even Immortality, change that. She's human first and Immortal second. I know a guy who does research on older Immortals who are lost to the Watchers as well as to history, and he says she's unique. I believe him."

"How many other Immortals has she fought, since you've known her?" That was more a curiosity than anything else, since he couldn't do anything about it. Local police, wherever she'd had to fight, wouldn't necessarily have records of the deaths, and there wouldn't be any proof of it, even if they did. At least, if the Watchers were as efficient as Derek thought they were.

"Tyler was the second." Derek shook his head. "The other one was an idiot - less than a century old, and he went around challenging everyone he ran into. I wasn't happy about it, but it didn't worry me nearly as much as this Challenge did." He smiled faintly. "We're not supposed to get to know Immortals at all, and we're certainly not supposed to warn them. Still, nothing I learned in the Academy prepared me for Garcia."

"No training prepares any of us for any one individual. It only gives us the tools we need to to deal with those situations similar to what we're trained for. It's experience that allows us to adapt to what we're not trained for." Gideon knew Derek probably was aware of that, but it never hurt to remind a person of it. Even he needed reminding, from time to time, and this situation was one to do just that. Not anything he'd been trained to deal with, but that he hoped he was handling well enough.

"Good point." Derek shook his head. "Still - Garcia's different. She's more interested in living life than in the purpose of doing so." He sighed. "God. I don't say this often, but I could use a drink."

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a prompt from twistdfateangel. "Garcia, tell me again why you beheaded the nice man." The muses took that and ran.


End file.
